A white southern country singer and a black northern rap artist get together to sing what they hope will be a thought-provoking ballad about racism. What could go wrong? Um… just about everything. Brad Paisley and LL Cool J’s duet, “Accidental Racist,” has proven to be a fuster-cluck; a whirling vortex of total suckage. And the song just came out less than 24 hours ago. Eric Dolan from Raw Story writes that “a mixture of mockery and condemnation greeted the online release of the song;” Melissa Locker from Time more tactfully mentions that “the track is raising plenty of eyebrows;” and Aisha Harris from Slate flatly snarks, “Brad Paisley and LL Cool J have good intentions. That’s not good enough.”

I’m doing it because it just feels more relevant than it even did a few years ago. I think that we’re going through an adolescence in America when it comes to race. You know, it’s like we’re almost grown up. You have these little moments as a country where it’s like, “Wow things are getting better.” And then you have one where it’s like, “Wow, no they’re not.”

Maybe some of America’s problems with race have something to do with some southerners’ ongoing fixation with the Confederate flag and its accoutrements, plus the way they keep electing ossified racist jerks to run things. So what’s so bad about this supposedly well-meaning track, and a little straight talk about racism? Here are three ways “Accidental Racist” manages to backfire:

(1) The premise is gawd awful: The lyrics tell a sorry tale of how a Lynyrd Skynyrd fan walks into a Starbucks, wearing a T-Shirt with the band’s logo on it, only to discover himself as the object of the barrista’s abject scorn. Funny how tolerant people are so intolerant when it comes to intolerance. Paisley sings about how he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he’s just trying to walk that fine line between “southern pride and southern blame.” Oh yeah, did I mention that the Lynnyrd Skynnrd logo consists of the band’s name masked over a Confederate flag? And that last fall, the sole surviving member of the original band — guitarist Gary Rossington — publicly declared that the Stars and Bars have racist connections (even though this ticked off many fans). Interesting how this self-described “southern white man” never discovers how offensive the Confederate flag — and all it embodies — is to many Americans until he ventures into that bastion of elitist, blue state liberalism: a Starbucks.

Is that a Lynnyrd Skynnyrd logo, or a Confederate flag? No, it’s two offensive things that look even MORE offensive together! Image from the Urban Politico.

(2) The song itself is gawd awful: Though it could have potential if it weren’t for the tune, the lyrics, the singers, and the subject matter. I had to listen so I could write this article. This task proved increasingly difficult as my flesh kept trying to crawl off my body and slither off into a deep, dark, silent crypt in our non-existent basement. What’s worse? The laboriously plodding rhythm? The slurring fiddle? The droning pedal steel guitar? Paisley’s mournful ballads alternating with LL Cool J’s aggrieved mutterings? How does this song manage to feel both insipidly cloying and corrosively offensive at the same time? Oh … I know … it’s because the music embodies the platonic ideal of mawkish sentimentality, while the moronic, self-pitying lyrics increasingly annoy the listener as each stanza lumbers tonelessly and obliviously by.

(3)The even MORE gawd awful lyrics: The lyrics are so unbelievably, embarrassingly BAD, I’ve included them below just in case you don’t believe what I’m about to describe. That awful bit about walking into Starbucks and being confused for racist (due to the Confederate Flag T-Shirt logo) when all the protagonist was trying to say is that he’s “a Skynyrd fan” is just the tip of the iceberg.

The former English major in me longs to deconstruct the following three lines, but she won’t:

The red flag on my chest is somehow like the elephant / In the corner of the South / And I just walked him right in the room

What? You mean Paisley hasn’t yet heard about the irrelephant in the room? It’s called the “Republican Party,” they’re all about “dog-whistles” and racism, and (thank God) they’re slowly-but-surely discovering that voters find racism unattractive.

Then Paisley gently glosses over America’s vile and bloody history of institutionalized slavery and racism:

I’m proud of where I’m from / But not everything we’ve done

Then he laments being forced to walk on egg shells because he can no longer proudly wear the symbol of centuries of terror and enslavement emblazoned upon his shirt:

We’re still picking up the pieces / Walking over eggshells / Fighting over yesterday

Then LL Cool J takes up the mic to drop in these little nuggets of post-racial wisdom:

Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understoodWhat the world is really like when you’re living in the hoodJust because my pants are saggin’ doesn’t mean I’m up to no goodYou should try to get to know me, I really wish you wouldNow my chains are gold, but I’m still misunderstood

He then magnanimously ventures, “If you don’t judge my do-rag, I won’t judge your red flag,” even though that’s basically like comparing a bandana to a scarf with a swastika.Poor guy: the silver-tongued rapper’s triumph in replacing his ancestors’ chains of iron with chains of gold hasn’t prevented the white man from shackling him with lurching lyrics and clumsy rhymes unworthy of a seven-year old.How did Paisley sucker LL Cool J into this dreadful mess anyway?Here’s the video:

Here are the lyrics to “Accidental Racist,” from PopDust.Com:To the man who waited on meAt the Starbucks down on MainI hope you understandWhen I put on that t-shirtThe only thing I meant to sayIs I’m a Skynyrd fanThe red flag on my chest is somehow like the elephantIn the corner of the SouthAnd I just walked him right in the roomJust a proud rebel sonWith an old can of wormsLooking like I’ve got a lot to learnBut from my point of viewI’m just a white manComing to you from the SouthlandTrying to understand what it’s like not to beI’m proud of where I’m fromBut not everything we’ve doneAnd it ain’t like you and me to rewrite historyOur generation didn’t start this nationWe’re still picking up the piecesWalking over eggshellsFighting over yesterdayAnd caught between southern prideAnd southern blameThey called it ReconstructionFixed the buildings, dried some tearsWe’re still sifting’ through the rubbleAfter 150 yearsI’ll try to put myself in your shoesAnd that’s a good place to beginIt ain’t like I can walk a mileIn someone else’s skin‘Cause I’m just a white manLiving in the SouthlandJust like you, I’m more than what you seeI’m proud of where I’m fromAnd not everything we’ve doneAnd it ain’t like you and me to rewrite historyOur generation didn’t start this nationAnd we’re still paying for the mistakesThan a bunch of folks madeLong before we cameCaught somewhere between southern prideAnd southern blame[LL Cool J]Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understoodWhat the world is really like when you’re living in the hoodJust because my pants are saggin’ doesn’t mean I’m up to no goodYou should try to get to know me, I really wish you wouldNow my chains are gold, but I’m still misunderstoodI wasn’t there when Sherman’s March turned the south into firewoodI want you to get paid, but be a slave I never couldFeel like a new-fangled Django dogging invisible white hoodsSo when I see that white cowboy hat, I’m thinking it’s not all goodI guess we’re both guilty of judging the cover, not the bookI’d love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the airBut I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn’t hereI’m just a white man(If you don’t judge my do-rag)Coming to you from the southland(I won’t judge your red flag)Trying to understand what it’s like not to beI’m proud of where I’m from(If you forget my gold chains)But not everything we’ve done(I’ll forget the iron chains)It ain’t like you and me can rewrite history(Can’t rewrite history, baby)Oh, Dixieland(The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixing’)I hope you understand what this is all about(Quite frankly, I’m a black Yankee, but I’ve been thinking about this lately)I’m a son of the New South(The past is the past, you feel me)And I just want to make things right(Let bygones be bygones)Where all that’s left is southern pride(RIP Robert E. Lee, but I’ve gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)